


Just this once

by Sindarina



Category: The Magnificent Seven (1960)
Genre: Childhood Memories, Dancing, Friendship/Love, Living Together, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:22:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26541334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sindarina/pseuds/Sindarina
Summary: Various moments of closeness (another contribution to the project)
Relationships: Chris Adams/Vin
Comments: 7
Kudos: 1





	Just this once

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BethLange](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BethLange/gifts).
  * A translation of [Einfach nur Wir](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24774184) by [Sindarina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sindarina/pseuds/Sindarina). 



> Another four-handed translation with mcicioni! The project in German is quite long, and fics worth translating keep turning up :) Hope you enjoy it, dear BethLange (and other readers, of course).

Since we’ve been living together, memories have been reawakening every now and then. Some are kind of bittersweet. Of the early days. Of my old man, how he used to hum some melody and start dancing with my mother. A leg, the other leg, turn, forward – again and again. As years went by, he did it less and less often. Shouting, smashing crockery or beating us black and blue was much more fun after all. On boozy days anyway.

Sometimes there’s parties in our town. Weddings, or something else. Every now and then we join in, watch, even dance occasionally. But never with each other.

It doesn’t really bother me. We got enough as it is. Unless, just once …

“Feel like learning a dance from the old country?” It’s evening, we’ve been drinking, and I ask you without giving it much thought.

You give me a sort of doubtful look. “It won't kill me. Say, what do I have to do?”

You’ve just heard about it, and you're already planning to put it into practice on your own. You’d do anything to stop anyone leading you. Why am I not surprised?

“Let’s not mess things up. Come and stand next to me.” You sigh, but comply, and I take your hand. I’m supposed to. Nice by-product. “I lift my left leg, you lift your right leg. Yeah, like that … Turn outward, and …”

We manage quite well. Some music wouldn’t go amiss, but there isn’t anybody who could play it. And I will not hum the melody – that would really be too much.

“Anyway, that’s how you walk down the aisle,” I say at the end.

You shake your head, make a fist and move it towards me, slowly and deliberately. I grab it and you laugh at me.

Maybe we should do this more often.


End file.
